


We Can Always Meet Again in Dreams

by whatyoufish4



Series: I Assure You, Brother [4]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Childhood, Dreams, Gen, I'm sure this has been done before but given my childhood this one was only a matter of time, Loss, Pets, Pre-Thor (2011), Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 04:59:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatyoufish4/pseuds/whatyoufish4
Summary: Thor's voice was beginning to quaver, and he stopped to take a breath and steady himself. “I’m going to dig the grave. For Mist.”“You have to?  Can’t you –” Loki swallowed hard. “Can’t some of the servants do it?”“She was my dog. It’s my duty. No one else’s.” Thor took another breath, one that sounded as if it might crack his ribs. “Father offered to help, but I told him I should do it alone.”“Oh.” Loki stared down at the book in his lap, darting a quick glance back up at his brother. “What about me?”Thor faltered slightly. “What do you mean?”“Can I help?” asked Loki.





	We Can Always Meet Again in Dreams

__

_We can always meet again in dreams. – Bill Watterson_

* * * * *

“Thor?” Loki sat up straight in the window seat, letting the book in his hands fall gently into his lap, and watched his brother trudge grimly past him. “Where are you going?”

“Outside,” said Thor, without stopping. His tone was clipped, almost brusque – but it was the first thing he’d said to Loki since yesterday morning, and so it was an improvement. 

“Oh,” said Loki, after a moment. Thor was halfway down the long corridor before Loki found his voice again. “But it’s raining.”

Thor stopped, which Loki took as a good sign – until he turned, and Loki caught sight of his brother’s stony face. “Do you think _I’m_ going to mind a little rain, Loki?”

“I suppose not,” said Loki, faltering. Thor continued to stare at him, and Loki felt himself flush. He did not know what else to say, and Thor was clearly waiting for him to say _something._ “What are you going to do?” he asked at last. 

It was the wrong thing to say, because Thor’s face darkened. “What do you _think_ I’m doing to do?” It came out almost as a growl. Loki’s mind raced, trying to think; he honestly had no idea. After a moment, Thor snorted, shaking his head, and turned on his heel to continue down the hall.

“Are you running away?” blurted out Loki, because he couldn’t think what else his brother could be going outside in the rain to do. Thor stopped again, and Loki saw his shoulders tighten just slightly before he turned around again.

“Of course not. I don’t … I’m not running away. I have to –” His voice was beginning to quaver, and he stopped to take a breath and steady himself. “I’m going to dig the grave. For Mist.”

“You have to? Can’t you –” Loki swallowed hard. “Can’t some of the servants do it?”

“She was my dog. It’s my duty. No one else’s.” Thor took another breath, one that sounded as if it might crack his ribs. “Father offered to help, but I told him I should do it alone.”

“Oh.” Loki stared down at the book in his lap, darting a quick glance back up at his brother. “What about me?”

Thor faltered slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Can I help?” asked Loki.

“It’s best if I do it alone,” said Thor at last, as if he was certain, and Loki would have thought he meant it if it hadn’t been for Thor’s face. His mouth was still set in a grim line – but his eyes on Loki were pleading. 

“But I liked Mist, too,” said Loki. “I want to help. It … it would make me feel better.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. He was sad about Mist. But more to the point, if he made it sound as if Thor were doing _him_ the favor, well …

“All right,” said Thor. “If you’re sure it’ll help you.” There was the faintest emphasis on the last word.

“I’m sure,” said Loki softly.

Thor gave a little nod, some of the tension around his mouth easing just slightly. Abandoning his book to the window seat, Loki jumped down and hurried to join his brother.

* * * * *

When they had been younger and smaller and were told they would each be able to choose a dog for a companion, Thor had spoken endlessly of the huge hunting dog he was sure to get, _“As big as a horse! Bigger!”_ Loki had rolled his eyes and ignored him, thinking instead of what his own dog was sure to be: small and lean and graceful and elegant, all long graceful limbs and wiry strength, a perfect familiar to a mystic.

But, often as not, when acquiring a new companion, the dog chooses for you.

In the end, Thor had fallen in love with a small, gray, fuzzy-looking creature, all floppy ears and stumpy tail and fur that looked half-gone to mange no matter how it was brushed and combed. The runt of her litter, the creature seemed to have no idea how small she actually was, and if her size was tiny, her heart was a lion’s heart, all fearsome bravado and unshakeable energy. Thor named her Mist, after his favorite Valkyrie of legend, and even Loki had to admit the name suited the tiny beast.

As for Loki himself, he had come away with a massive wolfhound, with golden-white fur and an unendingly gentle temperament. She was so calm she often appeared half-asleep – except for when she was outside, and then she would run in huge loping strides as if she would never stop. She slept at the foot of Loki’s bed each night, so huge she took up far more of the bed than he. Loki named her Alsa, a name he’d found from his book of sorcerers and magicians – and to him, she was indeed magic.

Where the brothers went, the dogs followed. This was to be expected, when they were exploring through the forests or swimming in the lake – but there was a bit more of an adjustment period for the palace staff and royal court as they became accustomed to seeing an enormous wolfhound loping through the palace halls, followed by a small yapping wisp of gray fluff trotting along behind. One would think Alsa would cause the most trouble, given her size – but it was Mist who turned up in the most unlikely places, stealing pasties from the kitchen before an important feast or tearing apart the best coat of a visiting dignitary in the guest quarters. Thor did his best to train and temper his small companion, and as the years passed, Mist quieted and calmed and grew into her place. 

The animals of Asgard lived long lives, and there was no reason to think that the brothers would not have centuries ahead with their companions. Mist got ill frequently – fevers and runny eyes, strange wheezing breaths and no appetites – but the specialized healers who saw to royal families’ horses and falcons would examine Mist and come back with brews and draughts for what ailed her. Thor fretted over her every time, dutifully coaxing her to eat just a bite of this or take a drink of that, reading her stories Loki wrote especially for the occasion, anxiously sleeping on the floor curled up beside her small dog bed (Mist had never taken to sleeping anywhere but her own tiny stuffed crate). And every time, to Thor’s great relief, Mist would recover, and resume her small and well-performed duties as the prince’s faithful companion.

Until, one morning, she did not.

* * * * *

Thor led Loki to the gardens, the rain falling softly on their hair and cloaks. They bypassed the main palace garden and went instead to Frigga’s personal garden near the edge of the grounds, away from the paths most frequently walked upon by visitors. A shovel had been left in one corner of the square, standing upright from where its blade had been half driven into the earth.

“Mother told me I could,” said Thor, off of Loki’s questioning look. Loki nodded, looking around.

“Where should we … I mean, do you know where you want to …?”

Thor frowned, planting his hands on his hips as he considered. “There,” he said, pointing towards a flowering bush of rose-ash. “The flowers are the same color as her fur. It’s a good place.”

“Plus,” said Loki, smiling a bit, “I think that’s the bush she half-dug up when she was trying to bury that boar bone. Remember?”

Thor’s eyes flashed with just a hint of enthusiasm. “Oh, yeah! I’d forgotten about that! She was just a puppy then.” He tried to smile back, but Loki saw the corner of his mouth start to tremble. His brother, Loki realized, had yet to cry.

“It’s a good spot, Brother.” Loki gave Thor’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “C’mon. There’s only one shovel, so we can take turns. I’ll start.”

* * * * *

They dug deep, but the wet summer earth was soft, and they were young and strong, and the work did not take them long. They didn’t much speak as they dug, although when Loki was taking his third turn (the hole about halfway made at this point), he felt a particularly large drop of rain slip beneath the collar of his tunic, soaking his neck. Loki grimaced, swiping at the back of his neck, and made a face when he inadvertently streaked a gob of mud across his skin.

“I don’t mean to complain, Brother, but – the rain. Is this you?” Loki glanced up, only to see Thor sitting halfway across the garden on the little stone bench Frigga kept beneath a small willow tree. His brother’s arms were wrapped around each other and he was hunched over, staring vacantly out across the grounds towards the woods at the far end.

Planting the blade of the shovel into the ground, Loki scrabbled out and made his way over to the willow tree. He sat down on the edge of the bench and waited, dragging the toe of his boot through the soft earth in front of them. It was not so damp here, the willow’s branches keeping out the worst of the wet. 

“Is it my turn to dig?” Thor asked dully, not looking at him. 

“No,” said Loki. “I just … I was thinking.” He waited for Thor to say something, to look over at him, but Thor remained silent. “I was thinking,” continued Loki at last, “about the time that we took Mist and Alsa into the woods and we all got lost. Do you remember? We must’ve walked for hours.” He gave a little laugh. “Alsa was having none of it. She just flopped down halfway through and refused to walk any longer. I thought we were going to have to carry her home.”

“I remember,” said Thor. “That was a good day.” He looked like he was getting ready to say something else, but then he snapped his mouth shut. 

“What?” asked Loki. Thor pressed his lips together and shook his head, still looking away. Loki nudged Thor’s shoulder with his own. “I know. It’s awful, what’s happened. But – there’s something else too, isn’t there?”

Thor kicked at the ground with his boot. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.” He sighed, seeming to gather himself, then said heavily, “It’s Fandral.”

“As you said the first two times.” Loki grinned a bit, hoping to make his brother smile, but Thor’s face was drawn. Loki frowned, wondering what Fandral could possibly have to do with anything. “What? What about him?”

“Fandral and Sif were here yesterday. Right after –” Thor broke off, because there was no need to remind Loki what had happened yesterday. “Sif said she was sorry, but Fandral said …”

“What?” 

“He said that Mist was fun and all, but animals are just animals and I shouldn’t get so upset.” Thor wiped almost absently at his nose with the back of his hand, though his eyes were still dry. “That I could get a new dog soon and that would make me feel better.”

For a moment, Loki was speechless. “That,” he said flatly, “Is the meanest thing I have ever heard.”

Thor chuckled softly. “That’s the thing – I don’t think he meant it to be mean. I think he was trying to make me feel better.”

“Well, then it’s the _stupidest_ thing I’ve ever heard,” said Loki. After a moment, he added rather grudgingly, “Though I guess it makes sense. Fandral’s never had any animals. He doesn’t understand.”

“Still,” said Thor, staring out at the rain again. “I can’t help wondering if he’s right.”

“What?” Loki looked at him, surprised.

“Maybe I’m being silly, getting this sad over a dog.” Thor shook his head. “It’s not as if something happened to Mother or Father. Or to you.”

“… but it’s _Mist,_ ” said Loki, almost helplessly. “Of course you’re sad. Fandral was just being stupid.”

But Thor just shook his head, hands clenched tightly into fists at his side. After a few moments, he stood up.

“C’mon,” said Thor. “We can keep going. I’m ready to keep going.”

* * * * *

“D’you want to say anything?” asked Loki.

After they’d finished digging, they’d returned to the palace, to find Mist tucked up and wrapped inside a soft blue cloak. Loki recognized the cloak as one of their mother’s – an older cloak, but still warm and beautiful – and wondered if Thor had noticed what their mother had given to Mist.

If Thor had noticed, he’d said nothing. Instead, he had gathered the small bundle into his arms and made his way back across the gardens, Loki following silently. The rain had stopped, and the clouds had begun to break, the late afternoon sun peeking through the gaps in the sky. 

When they had reached the gravesite, Thor and Loki had carefully lowered the wrapped bundle into the earth, then stood back. They’d stayed that way for several minutes, not speaking, until at last Loki realized that neither one of them really knew what to do next.

Now Thor sniffed awkwardly, not meeting his brother’s gaze, and clutched at something tightly in his hand. “What do you mean, ‘say something’? What would I say?”

“You know,” said Loki. “Like a memory. Or – a prayer.”

Thor was silent for so long, Loki thought he wasn’t going to answer. But at last he said, voice so soft Loki had to strain to catch the words, “I don’t think there’s anything to say.”

“What?” Loki darted a glance up. “Don’t you want to –”

“I don’t,” said Thor, “because I think Fandral was probably right. It’s not that big a deal. There’s no prayer to say; it’s not as if Mist is running through the halls of Valhalla. She was just a dog.” The last came out hard, and painful, and Loki stayed silent, because he did not know what to say. There did not seem to be anything to say.

Thor paused, then approached the hole they’d dug. He looked down at the bundle in the ground, then ran his fingers over the streak of blue he had clutched in his hand. It was, Loki realized, Mist’s collar. 

“… good dog,” said Thor, softly, as he gently dropped the collar on top of the small bundle. Then he made for the shovel and started filling the hole, eyes still dry.

He made no move to stop until the task was done, and Loki did not try to stop him. He simply watched, and waited.

* * * * *

In the days that followed, things were not quite right.

“Give him time,” said Odin, when Loki came to him with worry for Thor’s undeniable depression. Ordinarily, he would’ve asked Frigga for help, but Frigga had been called away to Vanaheim and would not be back for several weeks. Still, Father was the wisest man in the Nine Realms, and Loki was sure he’d be able to help Thor. 

That was, if Loki could make his father understand what was wrong. 

“But he’s sad all the time now,” said Loki, when Odin seemed to think his initial reassurance was sufficient. “And he doesn’t want to go anywhere, or do anything – or even talk to me. He just sits in his chambers all the time and won’t come out. Something’s _wrong_ with him, Father!”

“Thor is still grieving,” Odin said to him, turning away from his desk and the stack of requests awaiting his approval from the Council. “It has only been a few weeks, and Mist has been his constant companion for many a year. Would you be able to let go of Alsa so quickly?”

“No,” Loki admitted. “But it’s just that –”

“I’m proud of you, Loki,” said Odin, drawing him up short. “I’m proud of you for being there for your brother when he needs you most – especially since he cannot find it within himself to ask for help.”

“Yes, and that’s another thing,” said Loki, with more anger than he intended. Everything was so _frustrating._ “It’s not just that he won’t ask for help – he won’t even admit he feels badly! He said he shouldn’t, because Mist was just a dog. But I know he’s sad about her, I know it! But he won’t let himself feel anything. He hasn’t even cried yet!”

“Don’t judge your brother too harshly,” said Odin. “Just consider. Does Thor really believe that he should not feel the loss? Or might it be that he doesn’t _want_ to grieve, and so he tries to convince himself that there is no great loss to feel?”

“But I don’t know how to help him,” said Loki, miserably. “I don’t know what to do.”

Odin smiled, with a kind of sad understanding, and rested a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Before he could stop himself, Loki flung his arms around his father, feeling his chest tighten with worry and a sadness of his own. He wanted his brother back, because he missed the cheerful, laughing, full-of-enthusiasm Thor who had been his constant companion since before he could remember. He _missed_ that Thor.

But it was not just that. 

“Thor and I always watch out for each other,” he whispered into his father’s shoulder. “He protects me and I protect him. But I – I can’t protect him from this.”

“No, you can’t,” said Odin, drawing back to look at him closely. “You can not protect another from loss, my son. You can only stand by their side while they grieve. Do you understand?”

“… I understand,” said Loki, but even as he said it, he knew he did not fully accept it. Maybe his father was right. Maybe this was one thing he couldn’t protect Thor from.

But maybe, maybe, there was still a way to help him walk through it.

* * * * *

“Loki?” Thor frowned as he stepped into his own chambers. “What are you doing in here?”

Loki jumped up from where he’d been sitting at the foot of Thor’s bed, waiting for Thor to return. At his feet, Alsa stood too, looking up at Loki with patient brown eyes. 

“I was waiting for you.” He tugged at Alsa’s collar, and the enormous wolfhound obliged, coming to her feet and following Loki as he met Thor in the middle of the room. “Where were you?”

“Drawing in the library.” Thor indicated the sketchpad beneath his arm. “Kind of surprised I didn’t meet you there with a stack of your books.” His brow creased. “What did you say you were –” He stopped when Alsa hit her nose against the palm of his hand. Thor’s mouth twitched just slightly towards something that was almost a faint smile. “Taken Alsa for her walk already, I see?”

Loki grinned. “How’d you know?”

“She’s always calmer once she’s romped around outside.” Then, surprising Loki, Thor went to his knees – putting himself and Alsa at more or less the same height – and stroked the large brown head. Thor smiled.

“I came,” said Loki, “because I wanted to know if you’d like to borrow her. Y’know,” he added quickly, “for the night.”

Thor looked up at him, still petting Alsa’s head.

“I thought maybe …” Loki hesitated. “Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, it helps to have Alsa there. I thought –”

“It’s kind of you to offer,” said Thor. “But I’ll be all right.” He spent a few more moments stroking Alsa’s head, then looked up at Loki. “She helps. But – it’s not the same.”

“I know,” said Loki sadly. “I just – I wanted to help.”

“I know you do,” said Thor. “Thank you, Brother. But it’s all right. I’ll be all right.”

“Okay,” said Loki. He hesitated, then reached out before he could think better of it and gave Thor a brief hug. Thor did not return the hug, but neither did he try to pull away. After a moment, Loki stepped back, then said softly, “Good night, Thor.”

“Good night, Loki,” said Thor, and then Loki and Alsa left him, standing silently in the middle of the room, eyes on the low-burning embers of the fireplace.

* * * * *

Thor dreamed that night.

He dreamed he was walking through the meadow just outside the city proper, though the buildings of Asgard were too far away, and the sunlight shining down was too pale. It was the middle of the night, he knew that – and yet the sun was shining. The sight of it made him uneasy, though he did not quite feel afraid.

He walked through the knee-high grasses of the field, the ground soft and airy beneath his boots. His gaze travelled over the meadow as he went, searching, though all he saw were the shifting shadows from the clouds above, rippling preternaturally fast across field and sky. 

And then one of the shadows seemed to wrinkle slightly, separating from itself, wavering and streaking its way across the field. In the height of the grasses, it took him a few heartbeats to see the shadow for what it was forming into – a tiny figure, trotting patiently towards him. Lopsided ears at alert, tail wagging.

_Mist!_ – He tried to call her name, but the sound of it stuck in his throat. It didn’t seem to matter, because a moment later, his tiny dog was in his arms. A sound tore from his throat then, low and sad and relieved, and he lifted the miniature beast up and squeezed her, burying his face in her fur. 

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” Thor whispered, pulling back far enough that he could look down at the sweet gray face. It was odd; he couldn’t quite get his eyes to focus on her, and yet there was no doubting she was there. “I said goodnight, but not goodbye. I thought you’d make it through the night, that you’d get better, like last time. I thought –”

But his words were dissolving into tears. She squirmed in his arms, and he set her down, only to feel her tiny head try to burrow into his knees. He laughed, the sound quickly turning into a sob, but he could feel no tears on his face as he knelt beside he. He stroked her head, her ears as soft as rose petals against his fingers.

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye,” said Thor, his voice thick in his throat. “I’m still not ready.”

The light was fading. He thought, at first, the clouds had thickened, but when he looked over his shoulder, he saw that the sun had slipped halfway behind the horizon. If the sun came out in the middle of the night, did that make this dusk – or dawn?

He turned back to Mist, and was not truly surprised to see that the edges of her had begun to blur, as if she was beginning to fade into mist itself. But when he gathered her up in his arms, her solid warmth was the same as ever.

“You were the best,” he told her, another sob choking at him again. “The absolute very best, and I love you very much –”

The sound of his own cry was what pulled him awake. He startled half-upright, twisting around to look down at Mist’s small dog bed by the foot of his own – but, of course, her bed was empty. He gulped at the pain of it, and felt something in his chest loosen slightly. 

He wrapped himself back up in the blankets, and pulled one of the pillows to his chest. Then he laid back and began, softly and quietly, to cry.

* * * * *

“Thor?” Loki knocked on his brother’s door again, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. At his feet, Alsa laid down with a polite huff, head resting on her paws. “Are you all right? You didn’t come down to breakfast –”

The door opened so quickly Loki half-startled, and he was already bracing himself for an oncoming storm of fury when he realized Thor was smiling at him. Actually _smiling_ – still subdued, not quite with his usual cheer, but without the lines of strain around his mouth and eyes. 

“Sorry, Brother. I – have been up for awhile. I ate earlier.” Thor’s smile broadened when he looked down at Alsa. “Has she had her morning run yet?”

“No,” said Loki, looking at him hard. “I actually was coming to see if you might want to take her. I’ve got a project I’m working on in the Library, something I have to get done for Mother before she gets back, and I need to –”

“I’ll take Alsa for her run if you’d like me to,” said Thor, reaching down to pat the large brown head. “I think it would do us both good.”

“I know Alsa would appreciate it.” Loki watched as Thor reached for his cloak, tossing it about his shoulders with his usual abandon, before perching on the chair by the fireplace and beginning to tug on his lightest boots. “Are you okay? Because you seem …”

“Better?” Thor finished with the first boot and reached for the second. “I think I am. I thought about it, Loki, and I think you were right. Mist may’ve just been a dog – but she was my friend, too.”

Loki looked surprised. “I’m glad you figured that out, Brother. But, what made you change your mind?”

“Just something I was thinking about last night,” and Thor, nonchalantly, and then he was ready to go and he and Alsa were dashing out the door and down the corridor, heading for the open fields outside the palace walls.

Thor left so quickly he did not stop, as he normally would have, to make certain that Loki did not linger in his room overly long. And Loki did not, as he normally would have, immediately make for the door.

Instead, he waited until he was certain Thor was gone, then dropped to his knees and reached a hand under Thor’s bed. He rooted around for a moment, and then his fingers closed around the smooth stone he’d placed there yesterday. 

He pulled it out, examining it for a moment, running his fingers over the magical runes carved into its surface – ruins for _friend_ and _loss_ and _remembrance,_ and, encircling them all, the faintly-glowing rune for _Dream._ He smiled to himself, undeniably pleased.

He’d found a way to help, after all.

He pocketed the runestone, then slipped out the door and headed for the library.

**Author's Note:**

> For Charlie.


End file.
